Disposable Heroes
by Blind Cougar
Summary: A series of short stories revolving around a mercenary band as they manage on with their lives, missions, and misadventures. No understanding of the Guild Wars game necessary. Rated T for potential language and future fight sequences.
1. 1: Confrontations

Alrighty, this is all coming out on practically a whim. Been toying around with the idea of posting a few short stories up, at the very least just for some enjoyment. This is going to be loosely based off of the game Guild Wars, with more of the spirit of the game being instilled in it than the more technical aspects. Now don't get me wrong, if you keep your eyes open, you'll definitely spot the references, but that's about it. All the more reason for non-Guild Warriors to still understand and enjoy the story. I currently am unsure of what continent to have this all take place in, but I'll go into specifics when needed.

This will also be a story of OCs. Guild Wars, while having a solid story, stuck most of NPCs in the backseat and let you be the star in the cutscenes. Familiar faces and races will pop up of course, but that'll all come up when it comes up.

All in all, I hope you enjoy this little experiment in insanity on my part. Oh, and of course, aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own absolutely jack-squat of the Guild Wars franchise. Though I may invest in some of their stocks now that I think about it...

* * *

Stepping out of the gloom, a massive giant stood before them. Easily three times the height of any normal man, it wielded a petrified tree trunk in one hand as if it were no more than a simple cudgel. It batted it lightly against an up-turned palm, as if asking the intruders to give him a reason.

"So Lise, Wallace, any bright ideas?" asked a young, shaved head monk to his companions, conjuring a protection glyph reflexively. He wore flowing cloth pants dyed in a deep red, a simple pair of sandals, and bore a large and intricate tattoo design which completely covered his upper torso. While lacking any formal armor as his allies wore, his tattoos were imbued with divine protection, designed to ward and deflect any harmful blows from reaching him.

A slightly older woman, covered in leather and hides of creatures and animals personally defeated, pulled back on her bowstring, nocking an arrow and setting her sights high. The bow, made out of a single drake bone, creaked at the stress. Even after alchemical treatments and runes of reinforcement, the weapon still gave way to the ranger's strength.

"Well Tion, I say we bugger it up, make sure it can't harass any others who decide they want to pass," the archer suggested to the monk, a cocky grin covering her face.

"Bad idea Lise," spoke out a man encased in steel. The man stood from head to toe in hand-forged plate mail, crafted by his family of smiths several generations long. Thicker than any average warrior could pierce, the armor none the less showed wear. Each dent and scratch though, was to be considered a mark of retribution. Every blow nullified had saved the bearer from grave injury and certain death. Those who had dealt such marks against it surely do not live to this day.

"We're separated from everyone else as it is," the dreadnought stated. "We can't engage. Not with only the three of us and no idea where we are."

The giant ahead of them began to look impatient. It may have been only used as a deterrent, but with a fight so close at hand, even it could barely contain itself.

Before the either side could make a final move, a crack of thunder paired with a flash of lightning blasted out from the shadows of a nearby portcullis, smashing into the backside of the giant. The large creature stumbled forward in a cloud of smoke, clumsily turning about to see what had attacked it.

From behind the giant, a shadow jumped out of the smoke; as it came into clear view, it revealed itself to be a wiry man. Wearing leather armor much as a second skin, he was adorned with many assorted blades, each differing in shape and size. Quickly performing a short set of hand seals, he drew a pair of serrated daggers, the cold steel crackling with unbridled energy.

"You three, quickly, through the gate! Your friends await for you on the far side of the chasm," the nameless rescuer yelled out, preparing one last spell.

Wallace, still surprised by this man's sudden appearance, called back, "We all should…"

"No!" the man yelled back, cutting Wallace off. "Go now, while you have the chance." Not waiting for any sort of reply, he immediately leapt onto the giant, which had just gotten its wits about it.

"Well, let's not just ignore the man Wallace," Tion called back, him and Lise already running ahead, "Let's get a move on!"

Not too particularly happy about the situation, Wallace sprinted forward to catch up to the others. The last thing any of the three saw of the nameless warrior was his daggers in a blur of flashing steel and arcs of electricity coupled with the giant's cries of pain and anger.

A few moments passed, and the din of the deadly duel long behind them, the three travelers slowed their pace to a walk.

"So any idea who the nutjob was back there?" Lise inquired to the other two, her hands resting casually behind her head. Wallace gave no acknowledgement while Tion simply shrugged.

"You really have got me on that one," Tion began, "but whoever he is, he must be either very brave, or borderline insane."

"Or more appropriately, brave AND insane," Wallace said, clearing the way of some spider webs. He silently hoped they would not have to meet the webs owner, fearing that they would have the size to match their homes.

Nearly a half-hour later, still advancing forward through the cave network they traveled, the three pushed onward, continuing their search for their friends.

"Jeez, I've always hated caverns like these," Tion remarked off-handedly as he lead the way. Wallace in the rear only grunted his agreement as Lise cocked her head to the side in curiosity.

"Really?" she began, "I would've figured the musty halls of your monastery would be a close match for a place such as this."

"Yeah right Lise," Tion snorted his distaste, "the monastery may be old, but it's at least kept in good use and cleaned daily. Though I do imagine it could get this way if left…" The young monk began as he rounded a corner, somewhat lost in thought of home.

Distracted by his own memories, Tion managed to walk his way right into a truly massive spider web. Caught instantly, he reactively flinched, causing himself be become even more entangled in the translucent trap, losing his footing in the process and become suspended in mid-air. Following shortly behind, the other two warriors had to take a moment to stop and gawk at their friend. Lise could only barely contain her laughter as Wallace managed only a simple sigh.

"Alright you two," let out a disgruntled Tion. "Enough laughing at me and get me down." The archer was practically incapacitated at this point trying to maintain relative silence, leaving the steel bulwark to cut his friend loose.

"And you wonder why we don't like you leading?" Wallace mused out loud.

Their way forward was relatively uneventful from there. Aside from Tion experiencing a few complications with the giant webbings and what little hair he had on his head, along with Wallace making a small slip down a stairwell, was all just a prelude to the small band's entrance into the main hub of the cavern they explored.

The clearing they had entered was enormous. Stretching upwards for at least a hundred yards, the floor ahead was broken neatly in half by an impossibly deep chasm. Nearly fifty yards wide, the chasm continued on far into the darkness, leading to who knows where.

"So, we're here," Lise began bemused, "but where's everybody else?"

A sharp whistle came from across the chasm. Straining their eyes, they were greeted by the sight of a long, natural stone bridge, along with a familiar face merrily waving over to them.

"So nice of you all to join us," the young woman yelled over, a wide grin spread across her face. "Everyone else is around on the far side waiting for you guys!"

Taking care across the ancient bridge, Wallace especially, the trio met up with a red haired beauty who wore a striking silk dress adorned with flame motifs and wielded a long staff with a captive flame at one end.

"So Angela, I take it you're the rearguard?" Tion asked with a smile, giving the lovely lady a warm embrace.

"Hey, easy there Tion," Angela replied, slightly flustered, "It hasn't been that long that you guys got separated has it?"

"Tch, been long enough for the two of you to get all lovey-dovey," Lise pointed out. Angela replied by simply sticking her tongue out at the archer.

Moving up to the rest of them, Wallace cleared his throat, "So, if it isn't too much trouble, can we get a move on and meet up with everyone else? Kinda want to get back outdoors sooner rather than later." Everyone nodded their agreement, as the fire mage lead the way to the rest of their comrades.

After a short fifteen minute walk, the four came across a large stairway carved into the stone. Around the base, stood roughly two dozen warriors, no two looking quite the same. From the center of them, a short and stocky weathered old man in robes approached, holding out his arms to welcome the stragglers back.

"We've been waiting for a time for the three of you," the older man began, "Some of us were beginning to get afraid that you ran into trouble."

"We did run into some trouble Tolin," Wallace greeted the other man, gripping his hand in a sturdy shake, "But some brave man came and distracted it." Tolin looked slightly puzzled as Lise scoffed.

"A crazy is more like it," she said matter of factly. The weathered sage nodded his understanding. Before Tolin was able to elaborate, a figure walked out of the shadows of the dark.

"I take it that I would be that crazy?" the man from before asked, devoid of any scratches, scuffs, or other signs that he had been recently in a fight. The trio that had been rescued by him, along with Angela and Tolin, turned to greet him proper.

"This here is Arkis," Tolin began to explain, "He's on…loan, from the Guild of Shadows." Tion and Angela looked a mix between surprised and impressed. Wallace nodded his acceptance. Lise looked like she had just been slapped in the face.

"From the Guild of Shadows?" the archer began dumbfounded, "that bastard is from those sons of…"

"While I would love to hear you bash my employers," Arkis began quickly, cutting Lise off, "but we really should get moving. It shouldn't be long before company arrives." The other four who had just returned looked at him confused. The assassin rescuer simply sighed.

"One giant is easy enough of a target to distract and eliminate," he explained. "A whole tribe on the other hand? Not even the greatest of warriors could walk away from that fight unscathed."

As if on cue, war drums echoed through the chasm and flickering light from torches came into view.

Simply dusting his hands off, Arkis approached the stairway leading to the outside, "Well, time to go."

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Tion, Lise and Wallace: A Monk (healer), Ranger (ranged support), and Warrior (melee tank) respectively. Nothing else much needed for elaboration there methinks.

Arkis: An Assassin (melee damage) who has some training in Air (lightning and wind based) Elementalist skills.

Angela: A Fire Elementalist (ranged damage). Again, kinda universal.

Tolin: The Guild leader. Nothing much else on him at the moment.


	2. 2: Guardian of the North

Well, here I find myself again, wondering what the deuce I'm doing. This chapter and the next few I'm planning on focusing a bit on the three main characters introduced in the first chapter concerning their back stories and how they came to be a part of the guild (which still doesn't have a name).

This chapter will be about Wallace, who's a native of Ascalon, a classic medieval themed country. Because I just realized I don't really give descriptions of the characters while writing, I think I'll put a quick Bio of the main characters involved in the chapter.

Again, aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own nothing of the Guild Wars franchise. Except the games of course. And the art books that came with them. And that cool headset that came with the first one that I think might still work. Eh, you get the idea

Wallace Marker  
Country: Ascalon  
Occupation: Warrior/Meat Shield  
Age: 28  
Height/Build: 6'2, muscular  
Combat Style: Sword and Shield, specializes in defensive maneuvers  
Likes/Dislikes: Peaceful days/Being target practice

Nerith Awrin  
Country: Kryta  
Occupation: Healer/Part-Time Oracle  
Age: 24  
Height/Build: 5'6, slender  
Combat Style: Restorative magic  
Likes/Dislikes: Helping the sick and wounded/Troubled pasts

* * *

A quick clash of steel resounded as swords crossed at the gate. A parry, followed by a sharp riposte ended the bandit's life. The steel guardian defending the entrance to the outpost stood fast, awaiting any further opposition. Around his feet lay several raiders, all outclassed by this single warrior. Blood staining the ground around him, the man kicked away the bodies at his feet, providing him a clear area to maneuver in when the next attack came.

Another battle cry in the tree line heralded the next wave. Bringing his shield to bear, and raising his sword back in a defensive stance, the lone defender breathed deep.

"I am Wallace!" he yelled in defiance, "Guardian of the North. To challenge me is to greet Death itself!" He saw a few raiders falter, either knowing of his reputation or seeing the fallen around him. It unfortunately did not deter the majority of them, who continued forward, racing to their demise. Wallace pitied them somewhat, throwing away their lives for an unconscionable goal.

The outpost to Wallace's back was a midway point not far from a populated port city known as Lion's Arch. Located on a coastline, it provided an important link to a vast network of well-traveled land routes and lucrative sea lanes. With this though, piracy and raid attempts were a constant threat. The greed fueled bandits would become inventive from time to time, and on even fewer occasions slightly successful, but Lion's Arch's defense force was widely recognized as a group not to be taken lightly.

Along with a standard garrison, numbering a few hundred strong, the port also boasted a handful of remarkable warriors at its behest. Most were captains of the guard, but four individuals in particular rose to an even higher state of skill and strength. Each was given a respective gate to guard: the West Gate, Sea Gate, East Gate, and North Gate. Each was renown among the trade roads and sea lines for their fighting prowess and technique.

Wallace, Guardian of the North Gate, hacked down another outlaw in a powerful over-head blow, followed shortly by a sudden backhanded shield bash which leveled the raider behind the first. This warrior was different from his fellow comrades because he would usually fight alone.

Against most rabble such as these, he preferred his own stylized show of force, pronounced with deadly ripostes, quick parries, and devastating counters. In single combat, he had yet to meet any man to be his equal, and thus would invite several opponents to attack at once.

Wallace nonetheless had a number of squads on standby should the fight become too one-sided against him, or casters become part of the mix. Constantly planning out his next move in the larger scheme of things, the man did his best to keep himself a step ahead of his opposition.

Raiders fell left and right from the stalwart defender, causing the remaining few to fall back and attempt to regroup. Wiping away the blood from his blade, Wallace looked upward to the top of the look-out post.

"How's it looking from up there?" he called out, hoping to hear some goods news for once in the day.

The soldiers manning the post, with spyglasses in hand, scanned the nearby tree lines and horizon for any signs of enemy activity. Calling back the all clear, Wallace signaled the gate to open and returned to the safety of the outpost.

"Keep your eyes and ears open," he ordered the gate captain. "First sign of any more trouble, you make sure to hold that gate. Though with the beating they just received, things should go by smoothly." With a sharp salute, his subordinate affirmed his orders and began to make preparations.

"Um, sir?" the captain began asking, turning around to face his commander again, "Where exactly are you going?"

Wallace softly chuckled, taking off his helmet and letting the midday breeze cool his face.

"To head to the healer," he responded casually. "Woman would have a fit if I didn't report to her after pulling off one of those stunts." With that, the Guardian of the North began his trip to see the local healer in even strides. Better to get it over with sooner than later he reasoned with himself.

The approach to the healer's house was kept as pristine as it usually was. A small flower bed grew under one of the many front windows, among many various herbs and other medicinal plants. Aside from the occasional cold or minor injury, the home was relatively inactive. Shrugging his shoulders, Wallace knocked twice before letting himself in.

"Nerith?" the warrior called out to the empty home. Figuring that she'd probably be outside at this hour, Wallace walked with a slow gait through the house towards the backyard. To none of his surprise, he caught a glimpse of a robed woman with numerous charms and jewelry sitting in peaceful meditation as he passed by one of the back windows. Reaching the open doorway to the back grove, the guardian lazily leaned against the door post, awaiting the end of the healer's meditation.

A sudden jingling awoke Wallace from nodding off as the healer Nerith arose from her seat amongst her natural grove. Stretching her arms wide as if to welcome the afternoon sun, she casually strolled towards the lone guardian.

"So I take it the gate still holds my dear protector?" Nerith asked sweetly from under a hooded veil. Wallace had learned long ago that even though the miracle worker covered her eyes, she still worked as well as any sighted person he had known. He also learned that the healer could be a notorious flirt. With a flowing grace, Nerith slipped past, making her way to a mortar and pestle sitting atop the counter. Leisurely placing a handful of herbs into the bowl, the healer began to slowly grind them up as she turned to face Wallace again.

"Strong and tall as always," Wallace proudly answered, stepping out of the doorway and into the kitchen.

"And what of the Guardian of the North? Does he still yet stand strong and tall also?" she asked, playing perfectly the part of the naïve. The warrior standing across from her could only chuckle. They had done this exchange how many times to date? The man was honestly beginning to lose track.

"That he does young healer, without harm, not even a scratch," he returned, his a practiced voice of a warrior. Nerith simply cocked her head to the side in curiosity shortly before setting down the mortar and pestle and quickly running up to Wallace.

"No wait!" the guardian let out startled as the healer swiftly reached between the groves of his armor and pressed hard. A groan of pain quickly followed, as Nerith withdrew her hand, the fingertips covered in fresh blood. Regardless of how minor of any wound he suffered, the blind healer could easily locate it in moments.

"Not even a scratch, hm?" she said with a smirk. Wallace could only sigh, again wondering how often this part would happen to. There was always something otherworldly about her ability. It actually unnerved the man somewhat.

"Sit," Nerith commanded, motioning over to an empty chair, "And take off the chest piece and shoulder armor." She turned her back to him and got back to her herbs and what other concoctions she had. Sighing defeat, Wallace did as he was told and began to undo the leather straps holding his plate mail together.

It wasn't long before his upper body was bare and the healer started her work. Through a quick groan and grimace from the painful sting out of the warrior, she applied a light layer of a freshly made paste into the stab wound.

"So how'd this one happen?" Nerith asked, preparing a cloth dressing to cover the wound. Wallace was looking at the floorboards beneath his feet, recalling the strike in detail.

"Was a kid that got through, least he could've been" he began to recall, "First real raid probably, trial by fire training as they call it." The blind woman nodded, beginning to wrap the bandage around the injury.

"I saw his inexperience as he charged up," he continued "His horrid stance, awful footwork, everything in his technique left a lot to be desired. Left me shocked for a moment that they would send someone like him into a raid. It was his eyes though that really got me."

"His eyes?" Nerith questioned, tying off the bandages and clipping away the excess. Wallace moved his shoulder around a bit, testing his room of motion.

"Yeah," the guardian responded. 'His eyes were full of fear. Fear of failure, fear of fighting, fear of me." For the first time that day, Wallace let out a deep sigh. "That's when I faltered for a moment and his blade slipped through my guard."

The healer had moved to a water basin and was cleaning her hands as she listened. It had been some time since she had heard that tone of remorse coming from the warrior.

"I take it he did not last long after?"

"Barely even a heartbeat"

"Well," Nerith began, placing her hands on the wounded shoulder, "I can only hope that his soul finds himself in a better place than where he was." With that, she focused and channeled a bit of healing energy into the wound.

"And that should do it," the healer said, lightly patting the uninjured shoulder. Wallace stood up from his chair and shrugged his arm again. He had always hated how magic healing felt. It would make you fell both too relaxed and too ready at the same time. Donning an extra shirt that he had brought along, the guardian starting packing up his gear.

"So, I take it you'll send the bill to the guard treasurer?" he asked, knowing what her answer would already be.

"Yes yes," Nerith replied, continuing her work with salves and ointments, "Injured in the line of duty and all."

"Well, I'll be off then," Wallace said as he moved for the door. As he got to the front, a yell from the kitchen stopped him for a moment.

"Oh, you've got a letter from a friend on the table, from a Tolin I believe," he heard Nerith shout from the back. Once again, not questioning how she knew who wrote it, he glanced down at the table next to the front door.

Sitting by itself was a battered envelope, showing signs of slight water damage and yellowing at the edges addressed to him. Tearing open the end carefully, Wallace slide the letter out and began to read. It had been a while since he had heard from the old man.

* * *

To Wallace

Hope everything is going well for you. I've come to hear that Lion's Arch has been doing well for itself as of late. Imagine you've played a bit of a part in that.

In any case, I'm sending you this letter to ask of your assistance. I've been enlisted by a lord friend of mine in Ascalon to begin training his guard and the local watch. Possibly even move onto several other possible jobs from there, but the details are all a bit unclear at the moment. This will hopefully become a long term offer in the end.

I would like for you to come and help me with this task. I know pay has never been a driving factor for you, but I imagine the experience will be rewarding enough.

I hope to hear a favorable response from you soon.

Your dear friend  
Tolin Issen

* * *

Wallace reread the letter again to make sure he was clear. Tolin, the man he most admired and looked up to was actually asking him for assistance? He knew well enough that he had become a role model for the rest of the guard, but to actually teach others the ways of combat was something he had never considered. He thought to himself that he would probably not get another chance like this and immediately headed home to write his letter of resignation and prepare for his eventually trip.

Back in kitchen, Nerith hummed softly to herself as she worked, slowly imbuing restorative magic into the medicine she made. A shadow suddenly appeared at the back door, leaning on the outside wall.

"So I take it he'll be heading out soon?" the shadow asked, his voice very nonchalant. The healer simply nodded, focused on channeling her magic. The shadow chuckled a bit to himself.

"He's got no real clue what he's getting himself into does he?" he continued, "Man's got one rough future in store for himself." And with but a change in the wind, the shadow vanished.

"But you already knew that, didn't you prophet?" the breeze managed to whisper before the calming silence. Nerith slowly came to a stop, placing down the salve she had completed. Looking towards the single mirror in the kitchen, she calmly lifted back the hood and wrappings that covered her eyes.

Starring into the mirror, a pair of vibrant violet eyes surrounded in tattoos greeted her. A quick shimmer along the tattoos, and others appeared in the background. Most were undefined grey smoke, but some still had noticeable features. A small child, an old grandfather and a young raider.

The raider in particular had still recognizable facial features. A crooked nose, a pierced brow, and a mixed look of fear and confusion across his face. Nerith turned to the man, who did not seem to notice her, and reached out and lightly brush his arm. A flood of memories and images came into her. She cared not for the majority of them, sifting through to find the most recent, the ones where standing in front and alone was a armored juggernaut bathed in an intimidating aura.

Letting out her own deep sigh for the day, Nerith quietly mused to herself.

"If the past will tell the future shadow, then I hope he is ready"

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Wallace: Fights using several melee counter stances. Does little if not directly attacked and borderline helpless against ranged attacks.

Nerith: A Ritiualist (healer/pet master/support), a hybrid class that is capable of healing duties, managing several pets (summoning immobile spirits with special effects/attacks), ranged direct damage, and special weapon spells that have several buffing effects. An uncommon class that garners plenty of respect at endgame.

And that's today boatshow. R&R if you like. May touch up on Nerith at a later date, don't really know at this point. Next 2 chapters will focus on either Lise and Tion. Haven't figured out who I'll do first though.


	3. 3: The Shadow Hunter

Alright, felt that this probably was put off long enough that I finally took the time to finish up on this chapter. As the chapter title suggests, this one is focusing on Lise and what exactly she was doing before meeting up with the others. I'll admit now that I did this (as with most of writing now that I think of it) with very little of a direct idea in mind, more of a general direction to go in. It's like I'm trying to snipe before going good 'ol spray and pray.

The rambling aside, the continent the Lise is from is Elona. She specifically resides off the coast on a series of islands known as Istan. Home of both light and dark skinned people, Elona has a very distinct African and Egyptian feel.

Again, (insert copy/paste) aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own nothing of the Guild Wars franchise (end copy/paste). BTW, hearing new people complaining about things in the game makes me feel old.

Lise Neraha  
Country: Istan  
Occupation: Ranger/Hunter  
Age: 25  
Height/Build: 5'6, athletic  
Combat Style: Bow and arrow, though also has some skill with animals and daggers  
Likes/Dislikes: Being on the hunt/Anything related to the Guild of Shadows

Orson Wiles  
Country: Istan  
Occupation: Tracker/Target Practice  
Age: 19  
Height/Build: 5'9, lean  
Combat Style: Spear and long shield  
Likes/Dislikes: Relaxing/Getting shot at or chased after

* * *

"Steady," a voice in the underbrush whispered, "Steady…"

A nearby bush rustled, followed by a low growl of anticipation.

A short distance away, at the base of a forest hillside, a young tracker stumbled through a small stream. Afraid and on the run, he seemed to have lost himself momentarily in the natural maze. The canopy high above shrouded all natural sunlight, making it difficult to tell which direction he wandered.

The forest suddenly fell still. There were no sounds, no movement. For a scant moment, everything in the world seemed to have stopped. The tracker quickly scanned around himself in all directions, unnerved by the silence. Fear struck into him swiftly as the tell-tale sound of a creaking bowstring echoed through the forest.

Before the young man could begin to flee, a lone arrow flew out from the tree line. Catching onto the leg of his pants, the arrow embedding itself into the ground, momentarily pinning the tracker. Barely a moment later, a hulking white beast exploding from the brush, barreling down the hillside at full speed.

Panic flashing across his eyes, the runner quickly freed himself of the arrow and began sprinting as fast as he could towards a nearby tree.

"Oh gods why does this always happen!?" he screamed to himself as the white beast closed in. With a sharp turn the tracker dived behind a tree and as quickly as he could manage, began to ascend. The large animal chasing him down, unable to make as nimble of a turn, skidded to a halt before attempting to pounce.

The young runner's luck didn't seem to be out quite yet, as he managed to put enough distance in between himself and the ground that the beast, clearly now a large white cat, wasn't able to close the distance.

"Lise!" the tree-bounded tracker yelled out, "You've got me already! Will you go ahead and call it off!" Walking out from a small thicket, a leather and fur clad ranger casually strolled out.

"Oh, alright," Lise began playfully, "But you know how much Laeusi loves playing with you." Laeusi was prowling around the base the tree, eyes locked onto the young man before seemingly losing interest and sauntered back to Lise's side.

Taking a seat on a sturdy bough, the tracker let out a heavy sigh.

"Look," he began slightly exasperated, "I know this is all part of my speed and reaction training, but could we try some alternative methods?" Lise motioned for him to come down as she and her giant pet cat began walking back to camp.

"Like something that doesn't have me fearing that I'll be on a dinner plate?"

After a short walk through the forest, the three broke out of the foliage into a far reaching savannah. Set up near the tree line sat a pair of tents with a small campfire circle spaced in between them. Laeusi galloped ahead, to play with what few embers remained in the dying campfire.

"Go ahead and get the fire up again Orson," Lise spoke to the young man behind her, "I'll take Laeusi out and see what we can scare up." Picking up a fresh quiver, the ranger set out with her pet to search out nearby prey.

"Oh, and don't forget to work with your spear too!" Lise yelled back before the camp site left her view. She knew that the reminder was not needed, since the young man worked tirelessly on perfecting his form. It's just all the other thing she's been trying to hammer into him haven't been as successful.

Talking a low crouch to hide among the tall grass, the two hunters began their prowl. Laeusi was utterly focused on sniffing out prey, but Lise's mind would slightly wander. It had been almost three years now that she had taken in Orson. While initially his style was a little rough and overly-strenuous, she had managed to refine the young tracker's spearmanship into a graceful and precise weapon.

He was also quickly becoming more aware of his surroundings. Early on, Laeusi would catch him by surprise from a mere five yards. Now, the large but stealthy cat had to be much further away, and would sometimes be supported by Lise firing harrying shots to distract and confuse Orson. What was once a merely a boy lost in the world was now truly coming into his own. And no longer quite an apprentice, but he was becoming more like family.

Lise quickly shook her head to bring her thoughts together. Family was not something she needed on the mind while on the hunt, least she lose too much focus and alert her prey. Laeusi, luckily enough, had no such thoughts to worry about and had already begun stalking a lone boar.

Darkness was slowly beginning to fall over the savannah. Trudging back to camp with the dead boar in tow, Lise could see the fire had grown to excellent size, ready to prepare them a meal and provide them with light and warmth. She also managed to catch Orson in the middle of his favorite stance.

Using an extended bracer much like a small arm shield, Orson stood in a low and wide stance, with his shield arm forward and spear held parallel. This stance would allow him to bat away any initial blow and counter with a powerful thrust. The stance also gave him increased stability and power, with the ease of being able to quickly dive in any direction should the need arise.

Lise couldn't help but smile at her student. Taking bits from several styles she had taught him, he had created something that was true to his form. With a series of lighting strikes, followed by a leaping lunge, Orson finished his practice for the day. Wiping his brow of sweat, he turned to greet Lise and Laeusi.

"So, looks like we'll be eating good for a bit, huh Lise?" Orson said, eyeing the wild boar that she and Lauesi dragged behind him. The ranger nodded her agreement as Laeusi simply turned and began gnawing on a leg. Asking the tracker to take care of preparing the food, Lise ducked into her tent, saying there was something she had to check on.

Inside of her tent, Lise sprawled herself out on the fur covered floor. He was ready she thought to herself. She had never told him, but Orson had been taken under her wing to be her replacement. For the past several years, her and Laeusi had patrolled the surrounded area, keeping poachers in check, sending information about herd movements to the village hunters, and tracking down local black market dealings for the magistrate in the area. All the while, she had kept her eyes and ears open. Open for any information on her goal: the Guild of Shadows.

As much as she hated it, she could still recall when as a young girl, a friend of the family had come to them. She didn't hear the specifics, but seeing both her mother and father break down in tears, she could only fear the worst. Etched into her mind was the friend's words, giving her the only clue she had to run by for years.

"The Shadows have taken him."

Years would pass since then, and Lise would become a runaway. She brought herself to excel in tracking, stealth, and marksmanship from various teachers and life experiences. She was also quite adept with a pair of blades, finding herself in close quarters from time to time. Along with Laeusi, who she had tamed while they were both still young, Lise traveled around the islands of Istan, off the coast of Elona.

News would travel quickly among the islands, but the leads would dry up just as fast if one did not act swiftly on it. Because of this, Lise had maintained a steady relationship with local law enforcement and villages. She would assist them however needed, and they would send what information they had her way.

Though slow going at first, these bits of information had finally paid off big. Lise had learned that a man in land called Tyria had extensive knowledge of the Guild of Shadows. She made arrangements at the port city of Kamadan to travel to his last know whereabouts.

Lise was about to leave everything she once knew behind. The unknown fate of her brother drove her to where she stood now. With a strong stepping stone to her goal in sight, she felt that she could not leave this moment to pass by.

Morning of the next day came without much fanfare. Aside from a few birds flying overhead, the world seemed still and calm. Pulling away the flap on the front of his tent, Orson greeted the morning with bleary eyes and a wide yawn. Taking in the morning warmth for a short moment, the young tracker went about his business to prepare breakfast.

Hey Lise," Orson called out as he rummaged through a small bag of spices, "Where's the pepper in this thing?" Surprisingly for him, there was no immediate answer. He waited a little bit longer for an answer, but nothing other than silence was heard.

"Lise?" the man called out, wondering to himself if she had perhaps gone out early to catch some small wildfowl. Nearing the entrance of Lise's tent, he noticed the flap was loose. Poking his head inside, his was greeted by a sleeping Laeusi and an empty sleeping bag.

"She's left here, you know?" a voice from behind spoke aloud, startling Orson. Turning around quickly, he was greeted by the silhouette of a man, outlined by the rising sun. The tracker began to raise his hand to shield his eyes before the silhouette spoke again.

"Please, bare with it for only a moment longer," the silhouette continued, crouched over the campfire. "I prefer to keep myself secret if that isn't too unconvincing for you." Mulling the idea over in his head, Orson complied by lower his arm, though he could not help but to squint to help alleviant some of the discomfort.

"And left where exactly?" Orson questioned the silhouetted man. Lauesi had stirred awake during this short conversation and had poked her head out from the tent's entrance. The big cat only glanced around shortly before losing interest and settling back down. The silhouette placed his hands on his knees, stood tall, stretching out as he did so.

"She's left for a land far from here, searching for a past lost long ago." the man muttered. Holding up a hand to keep Orson from questioning him, he continued speaking. "I have it on good word that this is something that she has been planning for quite some time. It just seems that the opportune moment presented itself just as began to fell confident in your abilities."

"Confidence in me?" Orson said confused.

"Silly lad," chuckled the silhouette, "She felt that there isn't more to teach you, and that you would thus take over the mantle of protector here along with Laeusi so that her true calling could come again."

"And that would be?"

The bright light of the sun, now unobstructed, temporarily blinded Orson. Feeling a strong hand pat his shoulder, all remained of the silhouetted man's lingering presence was a quiet whisper carried along the wind.

"Her calling as the Shadow Hunter."

Regaining his vision a moment afterward, the young tracker looked at his feet to see Laeusi gazing up at him.

"Well, looks like it's just us two now…and no looking at me like I'm breakfast."

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Lise: As a ranger, she's able to utilize a bow and beast to great effect. Though she obviously leaves her animal companion behind, her profiency in daggers lends her some close combat capability. Rangers can have the broadest range of abilities, and overall tend to be jack-of-all-trades.

Orson: A Paragon (buffer/ranged support) is the pinnacle of a support class. Having two of his four primary attributes almost dedicated to helping allies, late game paragons can make teams much more effective. At the very least, it get subbed often enough for a handful of helpful AoE effects that anyone can use.

Laeusi: An albino Melandru's Stalker. Think of her as a cougar (or panther, or mountain lion, or puma, or whatever you want to call 'em). On their own, pets don't do much aside from attack and be another target. But when a ranger uses any of a large variety of pet attacks, they can become very painful very quickly.

And that's all of my sanity for today. Had to kinda force myself into this at times, but turned out alright in the end methinks. Orson and Laeusi will more than likely show up later, but like Nerith, I can't make any guarentees. Tion the bald monk is up next in line, so gimme up to another month for the one. Later, and reviews are always welcome.


	4. 4: The Plague

Okay, I finally managed to buckle down and crank this one out. I had actually been sitting on a near finished version of this for a while, I was just uncertain what to do at the end of it. This chapter was a bit different than what I'm used to writing (as in the feel of it, not the quality). As always though, I think I imagined to get the idea down without too much trouble.

In the end, sorry for the delay.

Anyways, this chapter is taking place on the continent of Cantha, in the massive city of Kaineng. This continent has a heavy Asian influence, of which is primarily a mix of Chinese and Japanese culture.

Again, (insert copy/paste) aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own nothing of the Guild Wars franchise (end copy/paste). Also of note, I can't wait for Guild wars 2 now (go watch the trailer, it's frikkin awesome).

Tion Mardai  
Country: Cantha  
Occupation: Protector/Healer  
Age: 18  
Height/Build: 5'11/athletic  
Combat Style: Powerful defensive spells  
Likes/Dislikes: Helping the weak and innocent/anything happening to what little hair he has on his head

Angela Tates  
Country: Tyria  
Occupation: Battle Mage/Collateral Damage Specialist  
Age: 19  
Height/Build: 5'8/lean  
Combat Style: Nuking and freezing, not always in that order  
Likes/Dislikes: Not have to pay for damages/getting backed into a corner

Hirai Sawaka  
Country: Cantha  
Occupation: Priestess/Sender  
Age: 20  
Height/Build: 5'5/slender  
Combat Style: Curses  
Likes/Dislikes:Anything spiritual/needless death

* * *

The pungent stench of death and decay was everywhere. It didn't matter where you were. Be it amongst the dead and dying in the back alleys, or in the highest penthouse in the city center, the fetid smell was inescapable. No cause or group had yet to be blamed for this newfound plague on the city. All the research and studies would shortly prove moot, as the forces behind the deadly assault on Kaineng would soon begin to set into motion their next move.

Kaineng itself was a major hub in a distant lands of Cantha. Easily dwarfing any of the other nearby towns and cities, Kaineng was broken up into several districts. While the current plague could be found at any given turn, it was Kaineng Center, also known as "Old Kaineng" that was hit hardest by the unseen attack.

Wandering around the streets of the middle class homes, a lone monk walked from doorstep to doorstep, doing what he could to alleviate any pain and cure any illness. The work was he did was long and hard, but the fulfillment he gained was well worth his effort.

"You know Tion," spoke out a lovely red-haired mage as the monk left the home he was in, "you really don't need to push yourself so hard." The monk, visibly tired from the long hours of healing, managed to give a small smile.

"I'm not at my limit yet Angela," he said with pride, "I can still manage for a bit longer."

Shaking her head in defeat, she followed the young man as he moved onto the next place in need. The red head took this time to ponder to herself why exactly she had taken the time to accompany her good-natured friend. This was more of his own personal mission, and she had no real healing capacity. Let alone any ability to alleviate any of the pain. Taking it upon herself to master both fire and ice left little time to focus on other studies.

Rounding the corner after helping a mother with her children, Tion and Angela came across an unexpected sight. Bodies were lined along the alley walls, covered in burial shrouds. Walking amongst the corpses, a young woman in a black silken dress carried a glowing blue-white staff. Slowly going down the line of bodies, she stopped at each one, kneeling before it. Too far away to hear what quiet words were spoken, or to see what gestures of respect were given, the young woman raised her staff above the corpse with a wave. Motes of dim light lazily drifted out from the body of the deceased, slowly rising up into the sky and away from the world.

Utterly dumbfounded by what she was looking at, Angela tugged on Tion's arm to get his attention

"Tion, what exactly is she doing?" the mage asked curiously. The monk, being slightly entranced by the sight, took a moment to register even his own name. Placing his own hand on Angela's to calm her, he turned to give her a reassuring smile.

"She's giving them a proper farewell," he said in a solemn tone. "Giving the deceased a peaceful passage to the afterlife." Angela couldn't help but look at Tion in a puzzled manner. She had heard of the customs of her country for the dead, but Cantha really was an odd one to her. Leaving his confused companions side, Tion approached the young sender.

"Excuse me?" he said aloud, trying to get her attention. Taking a moment to finish with her current sending, the lady in black stood back on her feet and turned to look at the monk. Tion was welcomed by pair of serene eyes and a beautiful porcelain-like face. Greeting her back with a warm smile, the young monk continued.

"Would you like any help? I am also familiar with the arts of sending."

The young sender seemed to have thought for a moment, but shook her head solemnly at Tion before continuing her work. Dumbfounded, the monk stood in the alleyway trying to understand why she would deny his assistance. The dead lined the walls down the entire alleyway, from one city block to another.

"She prefers to work alone," a voice said from above. Tion and Angela turned their gaze upward. Kneeling down on a nearby rooftop, appearance hidden by the shadows cast by a streetlight, a figure looked down on the alley. Quickly and gracefully, the person hopped down into the street, revealing a wiry man in simple attire. A short scarf was raised just above his nose, concealing most of his face. Along with a noticeable scar trailing along his forehead down past the right side of his face, a pair of ever watchful eyes shifted from shadow to shadow periodically.

Ever cautious, Angela kept her staff at the ready, prepared to fire a barrage of spells should need be.

"Who are you and want do you want" she demanded of him. Tion also kept his wand and focus prepared, hands instinctively ready to conjure wards. Aware of the potential hostile actions, the scar-faced man raised his hands in submission.

"I have no qualms with the two of you, but I do have business with the young lady over here," he spoke with resolve, gesturing to the lady in the black dress who continued on her business of sending. Sensing no deceit in his words, Angela relaxed her grip slightly and stood to the side. Taking even strides down the alley, Tion turned to the man as he passed by.

"Why does she work alone?" Stopping almost mid-step, the wiry man turned to face the monk with a grunt of confusion. Turning to face the man proper, Tion repeated himself. Chuckling lightly to himself, the newcomer returned his gaze to the lady in front of him, who was almost done with her work.

"Simple really, not many people are comfortable working with a necromancer." Both Angela and Tion were slightly shocked to hear the reason. The stereotype of one working with the dead was something that necromancers had never been able to rid themselves of. Regardless of how well-intentioned or kind some may be, the stigma of being manipulators of the dead with an evil power lurking inside would always overshadow them.

The fellow casters though were thankfully of open minds. Just because the view of a group of people is shed in a negative light does not make each and every one of them the same. Tion himself could attest to how even the holist of his order could fall to corruption.

Upon reaching the lady in black, the scar-faced man's conversation with her was hushed and brief. Understanding whatever his objective was, the woman began walking away from the scene, giving the alleyway a slight bow before disappearing behind the corner.

"Wait!" Tion yelled out, seeing her leave. Moving quickly down the alley, Angela trailed behind irritated by his unexpected action. The monk and mage reached the end of the alley, eyes scanning for any sight of the young sender.

"You won't find her, just to let you know," the scar-faced man explained, crouched on the ground near the entrance of the alley. Turning to face him as Tion keep searching, Angela gave him a disgruntled huff.

"And why is that?" she pointedly asked the man, annoyance covering her face. Again, the man lightly chuckled. Something about that chuckle of his made Angela feel uneasy.

"When she doesn't want to be found, Hirai is the best at becoming lost," the scar-faced man elaborated. Tion's head turned at attention when he heard the girl's name.

"You also might want to stand back a bit from the alley."

"And why would we…" Angela began, but was abruptly cut off as a shock of electricity leaped from the wiry man's snapping fingers, diving into the nearest burial shroud. In an instant, each and every body in the alleyway lit up in a hazy, dimmed white fire.

Shielding their eyes from the sudden brightness, the two casters eyes quickly adjusted, allowing them to gaze onto the sight in front of them.

"They burn that way because of the sending," the scar-faced man explained, "It's from the unguents and oils used in the burial shrouds combined with the remnants of the magic." Not fully comprehending the sight in front of her, Angela could only look on confused as Tion nodded in agreement with the man.

"It's part of the purification, the final part of the sending, right?" Tion added. The man gave the young monk a quick glance with a nod.

"You know your stuff kid," he said with approval, "Hirai probably could've used your help." His eyes quickly narrowed though. Sensing something amiss, the man let out one last eerie chuckle.

"Maybe you still can."

Quickly retrieving a small piece of parchment and pencil from his pocket, the scar-faced man scrawled a short, barely legible note.

"If you wish to see Hirai, go to Pier 13, on the upper-class docks," he instructed as he roughly shoved the parchment into Angela's free hand. "Look for a ship by the name of the "Fell Dawn" and give this to the first mate. He'll understand the situation."

"Wait, what if…" Angela started in refusal, but the scar-faced man quickly ducked back down the alleyway and around a corner. Giving chase, the mage was greeted by a solid brick wall. Trudging back onto the street, she sighed exasperatedly. Looking down at the note, she wondered how anyone would be able to understand this chicken-scratch.

"So?" Tion spoke aloud.

"So what?" was Angela's agitated response.

"To the pier?" Tion asked with a hopefully glimmer in his eye. Eyes narrowing, Angela stared at her friend for what seemed like a long moment.

"Only because I know how inclined you are to help every needy person."

A short venture through some of the healthier locales of Kaineng City brought the pair of casters to an overlook of the docks housing much of the upper-classes personal ships and cargo vessels. Asking the local law enforcement for directions, the pair made their way quickly to Pier 13.

Set before them was a rugged sloop of excellent craftsmanship. Engraved on the side in a stylized font was the name "Fell Dawn". A small crew was on deck running basic maintenance as the two casters approached the ship.

"Excuse me?" Tion yelled out, trying to get the attention of one of the deck hands. A man mopping the deck nearby moved his bucket aside before approaching Angela and Tion.

"What can I be helping the two of you with?" the deck hand asked with slight hint of an accent.

"We were told to give this to the ship's first mate," said Angela as she handed over a slightly wrinkled parchment. Giving them a short nod, the deck hand hurried towards one of the deck cabins. A few minutes passed before the door reopened. Stepping out into view was a scar-covered, heavy set sailor, followed shortly by Hirai. The first-mate and sender approached the other two casters on the docks, greeting them off of the slowly rocking ship.

"So, I take it you were sent here by a man with a scar and half his faced covered, right?" the first mate inquired, his voice naturally booming. Angela and Tion nodded simultaneously, caught off guard by the first-mates volume.

Rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully, the sailor turned to look at Hirai, who had appeared to be scrutinizing every detail of the monk and mage.

"What do you think Hirai? Think they've got what it takes?" he asked with a slight smile. A moment of deliberate thought preceded the sender giving a simple nod before returning to the ship.

"Excellent! We leave at tomorrow's first light!" the first-mate yelled aloud, clapping his hands together for added effect before following suit up the gang plank.

"What is this all about exactly?" Tion asked confused. "The man that had sent us here was non-existent on the details." Stopping just short of setting foot on deck, the sailor turned to the two casters, looking at them an adventurous gleam in his eyes.

"To cure this plague and stop those behind it."

With that, the first-mate disappeared into a door leading below deck, leaving Angela and Tion standing on the dock at a slight impasse.

"So what are you dragging me into now Tion?" she questioned the monk, with only a glimmer of an idea of what he had ultimately planned. With a thoughtful look, shortly joined by a sudden smirk, Tion slowly turned his head to meet Angela's gaze.

"Think you'll get seasick?"

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Angela:An Elementalist focusing in fire and water spells, Angela is naturally well suited to AoE (Area of Effect) spells, damaging and disrupting multiple foes. Elementalists have the greatest energy capacity (which is used to cast spells and perform attacks), allowing them to hammer away with the big guns where other would need to take a break after every shot or two.

Tion: Monks and the main-line healers, with the Protection set of skills performing just as expected. A good sense of when to cast and when not too is essential for a monk, sense negating only a minor attack when you were aiming for the big damage dealer often requires split-second reflexes. Unfortunately, Monks and generally the rarest, and be the most unappreciated class.

Hirai:A Necromancer, Hirai specializes in Curses, allowing her to heavily penalize an opponent for doing just about anything. The general idea of overburdening a foe with hexes can bring them down in a short period of time. A great disruptor class, her spiritual side is not related to her Necromancer abilities.

And that's it for this month's boat show. I do realize it's been a long time since I last wrote anything, but I considering myself a gamer first and foremost. I'll do my best to keep to at least a once a month schedule, but considering the current fall/winter line-up of games, I may be indisposed for a short bit. Thanks for reading, reviews are always welcome, and I'll do my best to keep it coherent.

P.S. I've done some minor edits on the first chapter, with the rest hopefully following soon. Just as a little heads-up.


	5. 5: Captured

After a horriby, horribly long haitus, I am back and with a new chapter to boot. Between a new job as a game tester and not having any motivation (surprise surprise) the story has just been kinda sitting off to the side say "write me, write me!"

All in all, my bad, and hopefully I'll be more consistant whfen I start getting more idea.

Anyways, this chapter is jumping around again, warping through time after the guild has already been assembled and people inducted into it. This is more a collection of short stories after all, and this works out pretty well for me since I have trouble with creating long story lines.

While I didn't outright state where this story is taking place, it's again on the continent of Cantha. There are two big rivals there, the Luxons and Kurzicks, who hate each others guts and would like nothing more than to stab the other guy in the face. The Luxons are a seafaring people who's sea got turned to jade after an event a few hundred years earlier. The Kurzicks live in a gigantic forest that was turned to stone during the same event.

What can I say, Shiro's a bastard (guy who caused it)

Again, (insert copy/paste) aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own nothing of the Guild Wars franchise (end copy/paste). Also, Guild Wars 2 can't get here fast enough!

Talco Reeves  
Country: Kryta  
Occupation: Trapper  
Age: 30  
Height/Build: 5'6/wiry  
Combat Style: Specializes in traps and snares. Creative with a bow  
Likes/Dislikes: Being left alone/anything that irritates him (just about everything)

* * *

"Hey Wallace?"

"Yeah Lise?

"Have a mentioned that I hate you lately?"

"Define lately?"

"In the past hour or so?"

"Then yes, several times at that"

"Ah, just making sure"

In the dank, humid depths of a dungeon, the pair of warriors were held captive after failing in an espionage mission. Two rival nations were, after many years of open hostility, finally attempting a chance at peace between themselves. Hate, unfortunately, runs deep. Financing their own private armies, several members of the upper class on both sides planned on ruining whatever attempts were to be had at a peace negotiation.

Realizing this potential, the liege-lord of one of the nations hired out to a band of well known and highly respected mercenaries. Wishing for any measure of information on who was involved in the disruption of peace, the mercenaries immediately sent out several teams to find what they could. Unfortunately, other assignments were underway, and the remaining warriors did not have much say in matter of accepting the mission.

A few days earlier…

"Woa, wait a minute," Wallace could hear Lise begin to protest, "why him on the team?"

The guardian turned mercenary knew immediately what his archer friend was referring to as he was glancing over the mission objectives held in his hand, relaxing at a table in the guild's messhall. A stealth mission was being called for in the guild, even though many of the specialists for this kind of mission were currently out on other duties. The group setting out today had a good enough of a core, but the swordsman could already see a trouble spot.

Namely, himself.

"Lise, we're not having this argument," began one of the more veteran trappers in the guild, a stoic man named Talco. "This is the best that we've got available. Everyone here is an expert in their field."

"Oh and what's expertise is Wallace bringing?" Lise spat back, "How much he clanks when he moves? Or how about how his armor glints in the light? Or maybe…"

"That's enough," Talco said with a tone of finality, even and cold. "As a member of this guild, you will have yourself prepared and ready to set out by next morning. Clear?" The archer could only look at her superior in annoyance before nodding and storming off.

"So, team looks good otherwise," Wallace spoke out nonchalantly, taking a bite out of an apple. The veteran simply sighed and took a seat at the table with the warrior.

"You will be able to do something with your armor?" Talco asked bluntly. The mission was always the top priority for him, but the man made it a point to keep an eye over his teammates.

"I'll be fine," the swordsman replied with a hand wave." I've got another suit that's already been dulled and designed to be quieter." Talco nodded his approval before continuing on.

"Any other questions or concerns you have? I'd like to be able to have you all ready sooner than needed as a precaution."

Wallace started skimming over the piece of paper in his hand again. It all looked like the basic information gathering mission with a four man team going in. As of the moment, himself and Lise were going, as were the illusionist Fane and the scythe wielder Vaan.

From what he had seen of their work, Wallace knew the other two would be able to handle themselves easily enough.

"We look good as it is Talco, though we could do with another body or two though." Talco nodded in agreement, though explained that his hands were tied

"Between the nature of the mission and who else is available, you four really are the only options," the wiry man elaborated before getting up. "I'm going to see if the other two have any questions before you all set out."

Glancing at the objectives again, Wallace could only simply wonder,

"What's the worst that could happen?"

From her cage, lifted up several feet above the ground, Lise began to slowly rock back and forth, doing her best to find measure of comfort against the grated steel.

"So how well do you figure the others have fared?" Lise mused out loud, not really expecting any kind of answer.

Wallace, whom was chained to the ceiling by his feet, craned his neck to get a better look in Lise's direction.

"Honestly, I'm expecting better results from the rest," he let out with a sigh. From the moment he saw the assignment, he knew that the mission was stacked against them. Lise managed to stifle a chuckle, knowing what the man meant.

Yesterday…

Wallace in full battle gear, was doing his best to navigate a narrow slope on the outskirts of a noble's training encampment. Shield stowed and sword sheathed, the walking bulwark had to grope out at every outstretched branch and root to allow him enough purchase to trudge forward. Several yards ahead on the path, Lise stood in a slight crouch, impatiently tapping her foot.

"Come on now Wallace," she hissed, "we'll never make it in time if you keep at this pace!" Wallace himself could only groan out his frustration, not wanting to take his eyes off the uneven ground in front of him. Lise could only shake her head, remembering how she scolded him about the heavy armor before they left.

"But what do you expect me to do if a fight starts? I'm supposed to be the back-up plan should everything start falling around our ears" she could remember him whine.

In the end, Lise could only wait expectantly at the slow pacing. They were slated to meet up with Fane and Vaan at a predetermined rendezvous point after getting what information they could. It was decided that splitting up for this sort of mission was best as to cover more ground to find any potential information.

From an earlier stroke of luck, the two had managed to get the drop on a small group of surly servants transporting several trunks and chests on a wagon. Utilizing sheer brute force, Wallace and Lise managed to capture several documents concerning planned movements and intentions concerning the upcoming peace meeting.

With each stroke of luck though, an equally unlucky moment tends strike out when least convenient. Looking up, about to ask Lise something that ultimately wouldn't matter, Wallace stumbled on an overturned tree root. This in turned caused him to lose grip on the tree branch he was holding onto for balance, sending it flying back into his face. Momentarily stunned from the smack, momentum and gravity took their course as Lise managed to process everything she saw into one simple phrase.

"Oh shit"

Crashing down nearly a hundred feet much like a steel boulder, Wallace was expelled from the foliage and landed unceremoniously on his back. Rushing down to meet him, Lise was barely able to conceal herself as several guards came out from the encampment to greet the dazed Wallace. She could only manage to sigh in frustration. She hated being on the wrong end of a one-sided fight. Quickly hiding the documents they had stolen, Lise strung her bow and nocked an arrow in one trained, fluid motion. Taking aim, the archer planned it out exactly in her head how this would play out.

A rustle in the leaves followed by the shiver of cold steel against her neck blew those plans out of the window. From behind her, Lise heard the ambusher let out an audible, discontented sigh.

"Ah, I really was wishing it wasn't you guys out here," Arkis let out in a depressed tone, "Hate having to fight friends over stupid matters like these."

Lise was absolutely fuming. Not only was she caught, but caught by associate of the Guild of Shadows. By someone she personally knew no less! A quick, sharp strike to the back of her neck though ended her train of thought as she blacked out. The last thing that she could remember was Arkis say something along the lines of,

"It really is nothing personal."

The two mercenaries recounting of the past was suddenly ended by a racket at the cell door. Loud shouts and yells of the guards were accompanied by another man's voice raised above the rest, colorfully describing the guard's lack of manhood and descriptions of their mothers. Wallace and Lise could only look at each other in confusion before the door was thrown open, followed by a man being forcefully hurled into the room. Landing with a loud thud, the man managed to turn himself upright and facing towards the door as it was closing.

"I'd sooner choke on my own bile than say anything of worth to the likes of you lot of jack-faced, rancid jarheads!" the struggling prisoner flung out just as the door closed. Breathing heavily, he stared at the door a moment longer before scurrying up to his feet. Manacles holding both his feet close together along with his hands behind his back made it slightly difficult, made apparent by his need of the wall to properly balance himself.

Lise and Wallace couldn't help but gawk at the newcomer. Wearing worn and filthy prisoner clothing, it was easy to see that he was well muscled and strong, obvious from the several guards required to bring him here. It was also equally obvious to see many long and nasty cuts and strikes through the recently made holes. Designed more for pain than harm, the torture devices implemented did little actual damage. Instead, the excruciating blows would leave horrendous looking wounds, equal only to the pain they caused.

The abused man, having finally caught his breathe, looked over his other two cell mates before his eyes were filled with joy.

"Wallace! Lise! By the gods you're alright!" the man yelled out with glee, "Well, relatively at least."

It took but a moment for the other two to finally know who they were looking at. Granted, he was missing his usual assortment of charms and talismans, along with his truly massive war scythe, but it finally clicked in Wallace and Lise's heads who stood before them.

"Vaan!" they said in unison, rejoicing over their friend's survival. They shortly began to send a barrage of questions at him, taking the poor man by surprise.

"How long have you been here?"

"Where's your partner Fane?"

"Did you manage to complete your side of the mission?"

"How bad did those hurt?"

"When did you learn even half of what you were saying a minute ago?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down you two," Vaan pleaded, his head spinning, "One thing at a time at least!"

Taking a moment to think over what his fellow mercenaries had inquired of him, the scythe wielder started to answer each question in turn.

"Firstly, I've been here about half a day. Got caught when I came to pick up one last thing," the injured man began to answer. "Secondly, she went ahead, and I imagine that she actually got back to the base getting a rescue party together...least I hope she is."

Wallace inwardly sighed at the last remark. In the guild, Vaan and Fane's relationship was famous for being borderline overdramatic. Even for only a perceived fault, the two could overreact, just to see how much they could get away with each other. Though they always stayed faithful, and in the end, always apologize and made amends.

"Thirdly," Vaan continued, "We got a few incriminating letters between some of the nobles. Should prove worthy as proof of treason. And you gotta remember Lise, used to be a pirate." The caged archer nodded, remembering Vaan previous choice in profession.

"And as for these" the ex-pirate began as he poked one of his wounds, eliciting several curses in response, "Hurt a decent bit, but imagine the scars they'll leave behind! I'll have at least an hour worth of stories to spin at the bar when we get back!"

Wallace face palmed at this as Lise just groaned. Vaan was also a notorious over-the-top story teller. While on the job and giving reports, he kept it completely without exaggeration. Once away from the "officially" and "on the record", the man would stretch the truth like a rubber band, keeping everything just barely inside the lines of believable. Looking over his two friends, a thought crossed Vaan's mind.

"So how'd you guys get caught?"

Lise immediately began to redden with anger as Wallace sheepishly started scratching the back of his head.

"Well you see..." Wallace started before being cut off by the sounds of a scuffle behind the cell door.

Vaan gave his friend a "hold that thought" before hopping over to the door, taking a peek at what was unfolding outside. A whoop of excitement was quickly followed by the half of the conversation new cellmate was having with whoever was on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You know me. No I'm no alone. Believe it or not, Lise and Wallace are in here too. I know, I'll pay when I get my money back. So who's your friend? Really? Well plan on letting us out any time soon?"

"Who's there Vaan?" Lise wondered, trying as she could to get a decent look past the pirate's head and through the small window.

"Fane of all people," Vaan explained as he hopped away from the door, "Seems that she met up with someone on her way back to camp, then came back to get us loose."

"Hey, looks like things are looking up for us Wallace." Lise said happily, looking over to the man hanging upside down who gave her a glare. She couldn't help but laugh at the unintentional pun.

From the other side of the door, Fane asked, "Ready?"

"Ready!"

What appeared to be lightning arced along the outside of the cell door's frame, blasting out the bolts and hinges holding the door in place. A scant moment later, the heavy iron door came crashing down, scattering dust and debris everywhere. Choking and coughing from the dust, the three inmates waited for the dust to settle before they could get a good look at their rescuers.

Two silhouettes formed in the open doorway, one crouched down on one knee with the other standing behind. As they came more clearly into view, the standing person was a striking young woman, dressed in elaborate silk blouse and skirt, holding a long staff. The head of the staff held a glimmering orb that let out a slight illumination. The other silhouette took a few more moments to come into view. When it became clear who it was, Lise flew into as much of a rage that her cage would allow.

"You! What the hell are you doing here!" Arkis slowly stood up from his kneel, storing away the small focus he just used.

"A change in employers. When I was denied pay and offered betrayal, I made it a point to find Fane and lend my services."

Fane nodded approvingly at the shadow warrior, "This guy never ceases amaze me in how he comes around just when we need him."

Lise has going absolutely ballistic, rocking her cage back and forth screaming obscenities. Even Vaan was impressed at some of the terms she was using. Seeing his partner getting the way she was, Wallace simply looked over to their rescuers and suggested,

"Maybe you should just rescue me for now."

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Talco: A trapper is a type of Ranger than specializes in, well, traps. He can set things up long before the fight starts and cause some major damage should his enemies walk into them. Damage and debilitating conditions are what traps cause, and some trappers are even capable of setting them up in the middle of a fight.

Fane: An Illusionist is a form of a Mesmer, a class that messes with the mind. A Illusionsist inparticultar is capable of a variety of things, from slowing down the enemy to making them lose health over time, to causing a foe to screw up something major on even a simple task. That and Mesmers can cast faster than anyone else makes them a headache to fight

Vaan: A scythe wielder in game is known as a Dervish. They're holy warriors who swing around the giant two-handed blade in beautiful dance-like motions. Capable of hitting multiple foes with one swing, a scythe is able to cause the most damage out of any weapon with just one blow.

Alrighty, that's everything for now. I do realize it's been way too long since I've written anything, but hopefully I will find more time and motivation to keep going.


	6. 6: Holy Pirate

Egads, what is this? Another update? And so soon!

What can I say. When I get off my lazy ass and start up something, I can crack it out pretty quick when the mood suits me.

This chapter is geared toward Vaan who you all about read last chapter. He's always been an interesting concept to write as being the loud braggart is my opposite.

The location is off the coast of Kourna, a large militaristic nation in Elona which is but a stone's throw from Istan (where the 3rd chapter took place). Having the same North African/Mediterrian vibe going for it, Vaan himself hails from another country deeper inland named Vabbi. These 3 countries make the most of Elona and all share very similiar characteristics with some notable exceptions (Istan: Peaceful and Wise, Kourna: Powerful and Ambitious, Vabbi: Wealth and Elegance).

Again, (insert copy/paste) aside from the original character concepts and ideas, I own nothing of the Guild Wars franchise (end copy/paste). Nothing odd to add in here, keep moving

Vaan of the Wind (Vaan Tjamet)  
Country: Vabbi  
Occupation: Pirate/Convict  
Age: 23  
Height/Build: 6'0, muscular  
Combat Style: Scythe  
Likes/Dislikes: Having fun/Deceitful liers who only deserve (insert copious amounts of vulgarity and cursing)

* * *

"The skies! Watch yourselves everyone!" the ships first mate called out to the crew. At first the crew was unaware of what dangers the crewman spoke of, but then the screeching could be heard.

Diving from high above the ship with the sun to their backs, a flock of harpies began assaulting the merchant vessel. Their ear piercing shrieks only gained in pitch as the closed the distant before landing gracefully on the deck. Such poise lasted only a moment as they began to savagely attack the nearest crewman.

"Captain! We're outnumber three to one and nowhere near port!" the first mate yelled out as he frantically defended himself against the frenzied attack of one of the harpies. "Orders!"

The captain of the merchant vessel, the "Lyssa's Bounty", quickly looked around him and saw his crew becoming overwhelmed. He didn't have much in the way of options here and what few he had he did not like. Cutting down a foe charging from the sky with an eviscerating swing of his axe, the captain called for the closest crewman.

"Get the prisoner out here!" he bellowed out, "before we all are sent to the Underworld!"

Below decks in the holding cells, a man dressed in an armored hooded robe and adorn with numerous holy symbols and talismans sat alone in shackles. Able to only hear the footsteps above with indiscernible yelling, the holy warrior merely hummed a merry tune to himself. A guard suddenly came through the door leading to the cells, fumbling the cell door key in his hand. The prisoner being the sole occupant only looked on with puzzlement as his cell door was opened for him.

"Captain's orders," the crewman let out exasperated, "needs you topside immediately." Still sitting, the prisoner simply raised his shackles hands up, rattling the chains for emphasis.

"First, these," the shackled man began, "then my weapon."

The battle above decks had taken a turn for the worse. The first mate had been skewered through by a pair of spears. Most of the deckhands lay dying or dead. Even the captain himself, the most veteran fighter of his crew, struggled to stand at the door leading to the cargo hold. A large gash struck across his chest bleed heavily as the captain tried to rally what few crew were still able to fight. Even with this act of defiance, the several harpies closing in for the kill could see the desperation in the captain's eyes.

"Come at me already!" the captain goaded. "Do you fear me? Face me now and I'll gladly bring you to the Underworld's door!"

Before the harpies could act or the captain make good on his threat, the door from the cargo hold burst open. Showering splinters everywhere, the prisoner from below decks emerged. His symbols and talismans glimmered in the midday sun, as did the massive war scythe he brought to bear. Wielding the weapon of destruction lightly, the former captive eyed his opposition casually. From his guess, there were only three crewmen still in fighting condition attempting to defend themselves from at least fifteen harpies.

"Come on captain, do you really think these beasts will learn fear from a man floundering on his last leg?" the prisoner remarked with a snide voice. "That is a lesson that only I can teach these brainless mongrels." Before giving the seaman a chance to respond, the holy warrior clasped gently one of the symbols hanging from his necklace. Murmuring a short prayer, the former imprisoned warrior took a wide stance as a shadowy mist from beneath his feet began to form. As it slowly began to rise up his body, his clothing and armor also began to transform. His robes began to tater and fray, the armor rusting and becoming decorated with skulls.

"Gaze upon me and know fear you degenerates!" the holy warrior shouted out, grabbing the attention of everyone aboard. Knowing the transformation almost complete, the man could only smile. This next part was always his favorite.

"Cower before me now," the prisoner roared, the shadowy mist finally reaching his head, transforming his hood to match the rest of his appearance with the addition of a frightful death mask. "Before I send you to meet Grenth himself!" he finished, his voice changed to something otherworldly, cold and merciless. The warrior had now completely become the personification of death, in appearance and tone. Emanating an bone chilling aura, the avatar of Grenth rushed forward, hacking and slashing in a dreadfully beautiful dance of devastation. The captain and remaining crew could only gawk in awestruck horror as the man they held prisoner only a few moments ago rended his way through the remaining harpies, striking as many as three down in a single wide stroke. His movements were ever flowing, each step as fluid and natural looking as if the midst of battle is where he belonged. Limbs, wings, blood, and other bits flew in every direction as the scythe wielder massacred any foe in reach.

The beasts couldn't defend themselves against this vicious assault. What few managed to gather their wits before the avatar turned on them beat a hasty retreat into the sky. The holy warrior snarled his displeasure at those falling back as he leisurely beheaded one of the beasts that lay dying at his feet.

"Where's your ferocity now!" he boomed tauntingly. "Does the likes of one being bring you such despair! Then flee you chicken-blooded blighters of the sky!"

Frightened beyond words, the captain could only manage to keep himself propped upright. He normally only took simple transportation jobs. Move this grain to here, that spice to there. Busy work, nothing troublesome or dangerous. Just simple, honest work.

"Damn that man," the captain's voice trembled in a low whisper.

"Oh? Who are we damning now?" a voice chirped curiously from the wrecked doorframe behind the captain. A wiry man in simple merchant clothes leaned lightly on the opening. A long scarf to protect himself from the sea spray and winds wrapped around the man's neck, covering up the better half of his face. Though his eye's gentle, the scar across his brow and the way he moved betrayed him as someone who was no stranger to a fight. The captain looked up at this "merchant" who funded this job with hate and a scowl.

"Now captain, that is no way to look at your employer," the merchant chided. "Be thankful at the least that the item you were transporting was in such good will to assist you." The sides of the scarfed man's eyes gave the impression he was smiling, shortly before calling for the cabin boy to fetch the ship's doctor and assist in patching up the wounded.

Still hurling insults to the sky, the holy warrior's visage slowly reverted back to his original self. His face screwed into a scornful glare as the last of the harpies left his sight before turning to acknowledge the rest of the surviving crew again. Moving a decent pace, he quickly approached the captain and merchant.

"So, I take it you're to blame for me being in chains?" the ex-prisoner accused the merchant, pointing his blade at the man. The scarved man took the blame with a short nod, admitting what was common knowledge by the rest of the crew.

"That would be the case Vaan of the Wind, or would be Vaan Tjamet be more appropriate?" said the merchant as Vaan gave a surprised look, causing the scarred one to chuckled in a rather eerie tone.

"How do you…"

"Know your name?" the scarved man finished the scythe wielder's words. "I know enough about you Vaan to be either a dangerous foe or a welcomed friend. Your previous teaching in the finer arts. Your own successes and failures in those endeavors. Even your fall into piracy and recent capture," the scarred man listed. "Now I do insist that we handle this in a pleasant manner, lest you go into another spree of vulgarity and bring possibly more attention to our already wounded selves."

While always cautious of men like this merchant and their craft with words, Vaan set his weapon to rest across his back and held out his hand in a gesture of good favor.

"A man of many words I see, flowing quite well at that," the former captive commented smiling. The merchant took the offered hand and the two gave a sturdy shake in agreement. "Though do keep in mind," Vaan continued while grasping the smaller man's hand in a vice grip, "I do not appreciate lies, and as you can see I am more than capable of ridding this world of those treacherous spineless sons of shark chum who decide to wrong me." The scarved man met the warrior's eyes with his own steely gaze, showing no fear given the open threat.

"What!" the captain coughed, the man only halfway stitched up. "Do you mean to tell me were to let this inhuman maelstrom free to walk? We brought him in chains and I rightly believe he should be put back into them." The two healthy men standing above the half-dead captain could only look down at him before looking back at each other.

Vaan started howling at the priceless objection, using only a choice few words to describe the captain's unfit condition as the scarred merchant again began his eerie chuckle.

"I'm sorry to say captain, but you are in no shape to do much of anything at the moment," scarved man said amused. "You may be disheartened to hear it, but part of the contract you signed did mention myself commandeering your vessel for the remainder of the job should you be unfit to continue." Even as he finished the captain was beginning to visibly pale, seeing the situation for himself continue getting worse. To even top it off, the merchant pulled a copy of the job offer and pointed out the exact line he spoke of.

Calming down from the moment of hiliarity, Vaan staggered back over, still giggling at the thought of the captain fighting to put him back in shackles.

"Oh? He fainted?"

"Apparently a bit too much for him to take it seems," the scarved man agreed. Directing the doctor and cabin boy to take the unconscious captain to rest, the now acting captain turned to face Vaan with his first order.

"Vaan, take the wheel and steer us northward along the coastline still. The rest of you, shove off what we cannot use and store the rest in the hold." Plenty of "Aye aye!" and "Sir!" were given as Vaan himself gleefully bounded to the ship's helm.

"So where are we heading to, Captain…" the ex-convict asked, realizing he didn't even know the name of his prior warden.

"We sail for Kryta and Lion's Arch!" he announced heartily, the idea of being captain getting the better of him. The merchant overheard Vaan mentioning how Kryta had the best ale he'd had as of yet.

"As for my name," turning back to look his helmsman in the eye, "Arkis of the Guild of Shadows."

* * *

Guild Wars Corner: The after notes

Vaan: A scythe wielder in game is known as a Dervish. They're holy warriors who swing around the giant two-handed blade in beautiful dance-like motions. Capable of hitting multiple foes with one swing, a scythe is able to cause the most damage out of any weapon with just one blow (taken from the previous chapter). While considered to not be the strongest of fighters, they are still do excellent work with enchantment buffs and have access to powerful Avatar Forms that allow them to become empowered by one of the five gods. The Avatar of Grenth make all of Vaan's strikes icy cold, completely unblockable, and will steal away a foes lifeforce with each swing.

Okay, not the longest chapter I've written (I think), but hopefully it will spur me to keep going. As always, please read, enjoy, and review if you feel so inclined.


End file.
